Supplement Four
SOC-14 5K
--0-- WOLF AT THE DOOR
This is going to be long! Prepare yourself.
I started to post this in the IMTU forum, but the real value in this for another CT GM is extended character generation I'm using--so it seems more appropriate here.
I've gotten A LOT of response on this off-line after first posting it to the TML. At least two other CT GMs from the TML have compiled all this down into a single document, and you might be able to get a copy if you ask them nicely on the TML (I'm sure they will...I'm just being cheeky).
WHAT'S THIS ALL ABOUT?
======================
I'm preparing to embark on a new Traveller campaign. Well, actually, it's a continuation of a campaign I ran a few years back (which was, itself, a continuation of another long-term Traveller campaign I ran about a decade ago. This will be part III.). It's amazing I'm still using most of the same players from both previous campaigns. Us RPG'ers stick together, don't we?
WOLF A THE DOOR
===============
Anyway, the particulars of this campaign probably won't be that interesting to you, but, in a nutshell, it's about a few regular Imperial citizens--just normal people--who find themselves caught up in extreme circumstances. Their entire lives are changed.
I'm running a tweaked-up version of Wolf At The Door (one of the adventures set on Aramanx in the Traveller Adventure) as the basis for the first adventure. After character generation, I'm going to play a bit watching these characters go through their normal, daily lives. Some of them will probably be civilians. Some will most likely be in the military. That will be up to the players.
They will probably not know each other. But, then, they will find themselves together as a group. Strangers. They will board a ship together. They will notice a strange, chemical smell in the ship's lounge. They'll notice the ship seems vacant, docked at its berth, even though they were invited aboard. And then they'll notice the gas...
And, they'll be screaming, their nails torn from their fingers as they claw at the hatch to get it to open.
And, that's all they'll remember.
That is, until one of them wakes up.
He'll be flat, in a berth, on his back. In the distance he can hear pounding...explosions. He'll squint from the sunlight, but when his breath fogs against the viewpane, he'll realize he's in a mobile cold crib. Somewhere dirtside. Someplace he doesn't recognize.
He won't know how long he's been in the long-term crib, but as the fog begins to recede from his brain, he'll comprehend that ground shake that he's feeling is not an earthquake but the result of live artillery fire.
The emergency decompression safeties on the crib have been tripped. He can open it from the inside. Does this make him lucky?
He will shove on the hatch, feel the tug of monitor wires pull away from his skin, and lumber out into what he recognizes as a pasture on some agricultural world. It will be freezing--somewhere around 30 degrees F. It's raining. Windy. Muddy. The sky is overcast. The artillery shells blow craters into the crops around him. They seem to be second-stage rocket-propelled devices, fired in volleys of three about once a second.
He'll instinctively duck on wobbly legs as one shell explodes near him. All he wears is a paper smock held together by plastic tabs that remind him of those used on diapers. The rain will rapidly turn his only clothing to the consistency of a wet paper towel. And, as it does so, he'll begin to wonder about frost biting his bare legs and feet as he crouches in the deep mud.
This is when he'll notice that he doesn't have a single hair left on his body. No where. No eyebrows. No eye lashes. No pubic hair. His arms and legs are smooth.
The field seems vacant. There's no movement, except for the shelling. A bombed out farmhouse burns to his right. Ahead of him is a field of some sort of crop--what is it? Corn?
And, to his left are a few more cold cribs, their occupant oblivious to what is taking place around them.
YEAH, SO?
=========
This is going to be the opening to my campaign, and that's probably all I'll write about the story of the game. But, I've done a fair amount of work on detailing and extending character creation. I took it a step farther than just using generic CT chargen generation tables.
My thought is--there might be another GM out there who might be able to use some of this stuff.
So, if you're interested, this is for you. Feel free to steal it, tweak it, mold it, bash it, mash it in any way your heart desires.
This is going to be long! Prepare yourself.
I started to post this in the IMTU forum, but the real value in this for another CT GM is extended character generation I'm using--so it seems more appropriate here.
I've gotten A LOT of response on this off-line after first posting it to the TML. At least two other CT GMs from the TML have compiled all this down into a single document, and you might be able to get a copy if you ask them nicely on the TML (I'm sure they will...I'm just being cheeky).
WHAT'S THIS ALL ABOUT?
======================
I'm preparing to embark on a new Traveller campaign. Well, actually, it's a continuation of a campaign I ran a few years back (which was, itself, a continuation of another long-term Traveller campaign I ran about a decade ago. This will be part III.). It's amazing I'm still using most of the same players from both previous campaigns. Us RPG'ers stick together, don't we?
WOLF A THE DOOR
===============
Anyway, the particulars of this campaign probably won't be that interesting to you, but, in a nutshell, it's about a few regular Imperial citizens--just normal people--who find themselves caught up in extreme circumstances. Their entire lives are changed.
I'm running a tweaked-up version of Wolf At The Door (one of the adventures set on Aramanx in the Traveller Adventure) as the basis for the first adventure. After character generation, I'm going to play a bit watching these characters go through their normal, daily lives. Some of them will probably be civilians. Some will most likely be in the military. That will be up to the players.
They will probably not know each other. But, then, they will find themselves together as a group. Strangers. They will board a ship together. They will notice a strange, chemical smell in the ship's lounge. They'll notice the ship seems vacant, docked at its berth, even though they were invited aboard. And then they'll notice the gas...
And, they'll be screaming, their nails torn from their fingers as they claw at the hatch to get it to open.
And, that's all they'll remember.
That is, until one of them wakes up.
He'll be flat, in a berth, on his back. In the distance he can hear pounding...explosions. He'll squint from the sunlight, but when his breath fogs against the viewpane, he'll realize he's in a mobile cold crib. Somewhere dirtside. Someplace he doesn't recognize.
He won't know how long he's been in the long-term crib, but as the fog begins to recede from his brain, he'll comprehend that ground shake that he's feeling is not an earthquake but the result of live artillery fire.
The emergency decompression safeties on the crib have been tripped. He can open it from the inside. Does this make him lucky?
He will shove on the hatch, feel the tug of monitor wires pull away from his skin, and lumber out into what he recognizes as a pasture on some agricultural world. It will be freezing--somewhere around 30 degrees F. It's raining. Windy. Muddy. The sky is overcast. The artillery shells blow craters into the crops around him. They seem to be second-stage rocket-propelled devices, fired in volleys of three about once a second.
He'll instinctively duck on wobbly legs as one shell explodes near him. All he wears is a paper smock held together by plastic tabs that remind him of those used on diapers. The rain will rapidly turn his only clothing to the consistency of a wet paper towel. And, as it does so, he'll begin to wonder about frost biting his bare legs and feet as he crouches in the deep mud.
This is when he'll notice that he doesn't have a single hair left on his body. No where. No eyebrows. No eye lashes. No pubic hair. His arms and legs are smooth.
The field seems vacant. There's no movement, except for the shelling. A bombed out farmhouse burns to his right. Ahead of him is a field of some sort of crop--what is it? Corn?
And, to his left are a few more cold cribs, their occupant oblivious to what is taking place around them.
YEAH, SO?
=========
This is going to be the opening to my campaign, and that's probably all I'll write about the story of the game. But, I've done a fair amount of work on detailing and extending character creation. I took it a step farther than just using generic CT chargen generation tables.
My thought is--there might be another GM out there who might be able to use some of this stuff.
So, if you're interested, this is for you. Feel free to steal it, tweak it, mold it, bash it, mash it in any way your heart desires.
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